


The Wicked and the Divine

by CeridwenofWales



Category: Dorian Gray - Fandom, The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde, Vikings (TV), Vikings - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Love, Murder, Murder Husbands, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 20:16:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12540312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeridwenofWales/pseuds/CeridwenofWales
Summary: This work is inspired by Oscar Wilde's Dorian Gray.





	The Wicked and the Divine

She was tilting her head and slightly opening her mouth while analyzing the paintings. Ivar thought her face should be painted for all generations to come have the pleasure to enjoy the vision. Her features reminded him of a lady from a long time before. His first crime and the one he regretted the most. She trusted and loved him. She gave him everything. Her virtue, children, love… but he needed more. Or so he thought. His wicked mind desired more than she could provide him, yet she was the one that paid the price of his bargain.

 

 

=========================

 

 

He could still hear the honeyed voice of the strange being. The tempting offer of victories, power and youth. Ivar couldn't say if it was a woman or a man that offered him all that his heart wanted, and he thought it didn't matter then and even less now. The only thing he had to do was to offer his wife as a sacrifice. 

 

“It was only a political alliance after all. You will find a new wife. Any woman you want will be yours. They won't be able to resist.” The dark figure started walking around Ivar who was sitting on his throne. 

 

“What about my honor? My people won't follow me anymore if they know I killed my wife. She is the mother of my children.” Ivar felt a knot forming in his throat thinking about every time she supported him, every child of his blood she pushed out and fed at her breast, every time they made love and he just couldn't proceed.

 

“I don't need your help. I'll conquer every kingdom that stands on my way to glory. Go away with your schemes.” Ivar slammed his fist onto the armrest. 

 

“If you say so… don't worry! I'll come back.” The creature laughed, and Ivar shivered as never before, not even when he was waiting for a crucial battle. Ivar felt like this strange knew something he didn't, and Ivar hated being ignorant.

 

It came back as promised, during a night Ivar was sweating and howling in pain. Nothing that Sorcha did was enough to easy his pain. She had massaged his legs with herbal oils, gave him a bitter boiled drink and even pressed heated cloths on his twisted legs. All in vain. Sorcha was as exhausted as him and had to divide her attention between Ivar, their children, managing the household and the kingdom. He felt like a burden and ached for death. 

 

“I said I would come to you again.” Ivar's eyes scanned the room and he saw that dark figure standing in a corner, “Are you surprised? I confess that I'm disappointed… I keep my promises.” Ivar could feel the creature grinning. It looked like his pain was amusing.

 

“You wasted your time coming here. Go away.” Ivar hissed through clenched teeth when a new wave of pain attacked his legs and spine.

 

“I wouldn't say it was a waste…” it was chuckling now, “I can't waste time when death can't touch me.”

 

Ivar was still catching his breath, “What will happen to her? After?” he couldn't bring himself to say out loud the word. It was like making real the transgression he was considering.

 

“She will stay at a God's side. It's enough knowledge for you. She will be looked after.” The creature whispered closer to Ivar's face and its breath was not warm as expected from a human.

 

From its sleeve Ivar saw something shining and realized it was a dagger. While he looked at the fine piece, the stranger faded.

 

Sorcha came back with a tired smile on her lips, “Husband? I brought more oil to massage your legs and lower back.” She leaned forward to kiss his forehead and gasped looking down.

 

Ivar had stabbed her, and the warmth of her blood was soaking his fingers, she placed her hand on his and tears started falling from her eyes, “Ivar caressed her face with another hand bringing her closer to a final kiss that, for his surprise, she was reciprocating. The aching in his bones has gone, but the agony in his heart took its place.

 

“Mođir? Fađir?” Ragnald called them and before Ivar could do anything to hide his actions, he entered the room.

 

“What happened here?” Ivar felt his hands trembling with the disgusted look his son was sending his way. 

 

“What did you do?” Ragnald started yelling and for the first time in his life Ivar couldn't think about anything to say. The noise attracted his other children's attention. The first one to arrive was Sigtrygg, the eldest.

 

“LOOK! He killed our mother, Sigtrygg!” Ragnald was yelling and Sigtrygg silenced him with an upraised hand.

 

“I see!” Ivar looked down after hearing Sigtrygg's emotionless voice. 

 

"You know we must avenge her..." Ragnald was walking to the bed when Sigtrygg interrupted him.

 

"Then what? You kill him, and I have to kill you to avenge his death, and our sister kills me... an endless cycle of vengeance." 

 

“Ragnald, take mother with you!” Sigtrygg’s voice was steady, making a contrast with his trembling fists. 

 

Ragnald took Sorcha in his arms and walked away. Thora, his beautiful daughter was at the door and confused. When her gaze fell to the bloody wound, she let out a strangled whimper that remind Ivar of an agonizing animal. He brought this pain upon his family. He was their worst enemy. Ivar was sitting on the bed and feeling Sigtrygg’s gaze on him.

 

Once they were alone, his son started speaking, “Why?”

 

How could he explain? 

 

“I… made a bargain. I was a burden and now she is the company of one of our Gods!” Ivar felt sick with his own words and the feeling got worse watching his son analyzing him. 

 

“A bargain? The price for my mother's life? What in return of your honor?” Sigtrygg was talking like the king he soon would be.

 

“No more pain…” Ivar was not sure if he should mention his others gains, “power, victory…” he whispered feeling a bead of sweat on his forehead.

 

“Victory? At what cost? One shouldn't be proud of this kind of victory… with tricks. None valuable warrior will follow you anymore." His firstborn was running his fingers through his thick and black hair. He might have taken after Ivar, but in his heart, Sigtrygg was like Sorcha. 

 

"The Gods are not pleased. I can't even look at you. Do you know what is my duty, don't you? You dishonored our family.” Sigtrygg’s voice was modulated, but Ivar noticed the pulsing vein in his neck.

 

“Take it. Do what you need to.” Ivar handed him the bloody dagger and closed his eyes waiting for the pain. When nothing happened, he looked at Sigtrygg.

 

“I won't! I can't! The man I called father would be ashamed if I spilled my own blood. He would say the Gods were cursing me. My mother wouldn't be proud of me either.” 

 

Sigtrygg started crying and Ivar felt the urge to embrace him. How could he bring himself to embrace a son with a pure heart and risk corrupting him? He was proud of the man in front of him and this emotion made his decision easier.

 

“I'll go to Ubbe. He is having problems with the Saxons. I'll be dead from now on. Tell them I died with your mother… tell them my disease finally defeated me.” Ivar knew he couldn't bear looking at his children. He always felt a pleasurable thrilling when people were afraid of him. But not his family. He wanted their love, but he ruined everything. 

 

Ivar was ready to drag his useless legs from the bed when something surprised him. He saw muscles where he had twisted joints before. As a toddler making his first attempts, he put his weight on his legs for the first time. 

 

Ivar gave two steps and looked at Sigtrygg whose jaw was hanging open, “Make good use of your legs. They costed too much and not only for you.”

 

Ivar tried another step and fell to the ground, “Appropriate. You lowered yourself after all.” Sigtrygg said walking to the door, “Your funeral will be arranged in a closed coffin and a boat will leave to Danelaw tomorrow with the first light.” 

 

Ivar nooded and waited for the moment that would determine his destiny.

 

 

\----------------------------------

 

 

He followed her not paying attention to the paintings or statues. She stopped looking at a fragment of Bayeux tapestry. It brought a smile to his face. Guillaume. His enemy?

 

___________

 

The Norman Duke arrived and heard of the legend of the fierce Viking that was buried there. He digged and ordered his men to help him as well. The future King of England placed his hand on the hilt of his sword hearing a horse approaching.

 

“Why don't you try to dig here.” The knight pointed to a place Guillaume hadn't noticed before. 

 

“Who are you?” Guillaume asked suspicious and still holding his sword’s hilt.

 

“A friend.” 

 

They found a fresh body there and Guillaume ordered the legend to be passed on. Ivar The Boneless had not decayed. He had not allowed any invasion to succeed until now. 

 

Guillaume ordered a pile to be lighted and burned the body. Ivar smiled with himself.

 

 

==============

 

 

She could feel someone gazing at her and looking over her shoulder a tall and dark-haired man was indeed watching her. She didn't understand why her heart started beating fast. The man was handsome, but she had seen men as beautiful as him before. It should be something more.

 

He started making his way to her and she wanted to hide. 

 

“Good afternoon! You will think I'm flirting, but I come here daily, and I don't remember you. Are you just passing by London?” Ivar's voice was raspy and even though Sarah didn't have to answer him, it felt right to share her story.

 

“Good afternoon! It's the first time I visit London. I'm from Dublin and I'll start my Master’s degree in History of the Arts in Oxford.” The embarrassment was getting worse as Ivar kept his eyes fixed on her lips.

 

“So, it's just right that you are visiting Exhibition Road. I'm Ivar, nice to meet you Miss…” he offered his hand and she gasped feeling the warmth.

 

“Nice to meet you too.” She was looking at her feet.

 

“Miss?” Ivar was grinning, and Sarah wondered if he could her frenetic heartbeat. She hoped he couldn't.

 

“Hmm?” she looked up at him with doe eyes and Ivar felt teased by her innocence. It was so rare and exciting. To be the hunter once more.

 

“Your name. I don't know your name!” he was laughing now, and the woman felt stupid. Using her hands to cover her face she started chuckling.

 

“I'm sorry! It's (Y/N)! My name is (Y/N)!” Ivar found her shyness alluring and wondered how much effort it would take to bend her to his will. He would have fun testing her boundaries.

 

“Beautiful name. Not as beautiful as you. Do you have plans for the evening? I have a private collection of art you could enjoy…” Ivar's tongue was peeking out when she interrupted him.

 

“I don’t know why you felt entitled to make this offer, but I'm afraid I'm not interested.” Ivar noticed her nostrils flaring and she walked away from him.

 

 _It will be a nice hunt. I love a challenge._ He thought, a grin radiating across his face.


End file.
